Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Ode to the Atomic Testing Museum*

I few years ago I took a trip to The Atomic Testing Museum in Las Vegas. It's a branch of the Smithsonian and easily your best use of time and money in Vegas.

I won't go into the entire rehash of that trip, but it is a really really cool museum. The only problem I had with it was this weird cheerleadery vibe it gave off. There were a couple movies with guys who worked at the Yucca Flats testing facility for 30 or 40 years and they had the attitude that dropping the bomb at the time was the right decision. In retrospect, knowing what we know about its effects, it was still unequivocally the right decision. We should never have stopped testing, we'd drop another one tomorrow if "we had to."

Now the guys who worked desperately through WWII and throughout the Cold War on these weapons are certainly entitled to their opinions, and they are coming from a much different perspective than I am. I don't even remember the Cold War, though I was born before the end of it. I've never had to know what the fastest route to my local bomb shelter is. But this pro-bomb attitude pervaded the entire exhibit, even the parts talking about all the innocent bystanders (sometimes literally) who were harmed by the tests, let alone the devastating and ongoing affects on Japan.

The tests in Nevada (where they were moved after the accidental radiation poisoning of a bunch of Pacific Islanders hundreds of miles away from the original South Pacific test sites) became a tourist attraction. People would stand a "safe" seven miles away from the blast. You had to either put on sunglasses or turn your back, until the shock wave passed.

It just blows my mind that anyone would want to. There's a part of the museum where you can experience a simulated atomic blast. They blow wind at you, and it's loud but not loud enough to say, damage the hearing of the average museum patron. The white out is not searing light, it's just a white screen.

And I still thought it was terrifying. I think both my mother and I came out of that theater in tears. It's horrific enough that the government subjected our own service people to it, essentially to see what would happen to them, but these tourists were all civilians.

I also saw some footage of Nagasaki immediately after the blast. The main target had been a naval base that had housed something like 10 or 20 thousand troops. In the footage it was just a guy walking around a big empty field, marking out what used to be the perimeter. You just had to take his word that we were looking at anything.

You could see from the angles of char and the skew of windows where the blast had come from on the surviving structures. It was recently declassified film made by the war department, and devastatingly hard to watch.

Sorry, this has gone on a bit too long, like I always do when I talk about this museum trip, but the pervasion of Atomic Bomb imagery throughout our culture, and its history is a subject that is endlessly fascinating and chilling to me. It's terrifying, but also, so cool. It's because I'm a sci-fi geek. I mean, it all ties in with the Space Program, and Ray Bradbury, and pretty much every single one of my favorite B horror or science fiction films. Scarier in reality than it ever could be on film.



*This is another old post that has been cleaned up. So now I can refer people to this instead of talking their ear off about this museum.

Crazy Kinda Poetry*



Yesterday my girlfriend and I went to see Lucy's Legacy, the current main exhibit at PacSci. It was really, really fantastic. The first half covered the history of Ethiopia which was pretty cool in its own right, 3.8 million year old bones found there not withstanding.

The second half was about fossils, and how they're dated, and how they could tell that Lucy was a biped based on the position of the skull in relation to the base of the spine. There was CGI animation of the skeletons of a chimp, a human, and Lucy (Australopithecus afarensis), and how they (probably) walk. There were skulls from various species of bipedal primates, some of whom went on to evolve into us, some of whom did not.

The actual Lucy was, well... a box of dimly lit bones. But the exhibit did a fantastic job of making you feel the import of this discovery. I got teary. There was also a life size sculpture of Lucy done by a guy who has probably the coolest job in the world. There was an exhibit past the gift shop (where I manfully did not buy the "I Love Lucy" t-shirt, no matter how awesome I thought it was) all about the sculptor and the work he's done around the world for various history museums and things and that was pretty fascinating. The way he has to combine artistic skill with forensic anthropology and biology and anatomy to create life-size sculpture of animals that only exists as bone fragments.

Anyway. After the exhibit we went to the ballet (Jewels, for people who know stuff about ballet). The GF is a ballerina and she was excited that this one had no plot, just choreography. She said when she listens to the music she imagines the choreography in her head. This would be fun since she wouldn't have to make the dances up herself.

I had never been to a ballet before. Well, ok, I went to the ballet version of Edward Scissorhands at the 5th last year, but I'm not sure that counts. I shall be honest. This was not the best ballet ever. I enjoyed it, the dancers were amazing, but the music was too quiet. You have a stage full of people floating around basically doing insane things and making it look ridiculously easy, but when you can hear each "thud!" when they land it ruins the illusion somewhat.

But the really nice part of the evening was the walk back to parking. We discussed the ballet, and I decided that though the ballet was not as awesome as the exhibit, that there was a beautiful symmetry to all of it. We started with the very roots of humanity. Walking upright freed our arms and fingers from bearing loads, allowed them to become more delicate and dexterous, and to use tools. It freed up our diaphragms so that we could develop speech, and song. And then to close the evening we rejoiced in a pure expression of all those qualities and abilities that are unique to our species.

Lucy's legacy indeed.

*This is a cleaned up and more succinct version of an older post.

A Screenplay About Death

I debated putting this up here or on Tumblr, since my tumblr is more frequently used these days, but I don't think it's a particularly good place for fiction writing, so this goes here. It's a piece I wrote when given the prompt to write about death. So fair warning.

HARVEST


EXT. WHEAT FIELD- NIGHT

MAX DAVIS, a 46 year old Sheriff’s Deputy with thinning hair stands in the headlights of his patrol car. Max is a skinny man, but his bullet proof vest makes him appear puffy. His badge gleams in the light. Max is taking a statement from JON VENNERI (65). Jon is covered with a thick layer of dirt and wheat dust. There are dark streaks under his eyes where he has wiped away tears. The grime on his hands and overalls is black, some of it may be blood. There is a dusty wheat truck and a combine parked just outside the circle of light. Both men avoid looking at the truck.

JON

I, I just…We radioed him around lunchtime but he didn’t answer. We figured that he was just having a cigarette or something. I sent the other guys home already. I hope that’s ok.

Jon pauses to take a shuddering breath.

MAX
(coaxing)

I can get statements from them later. You were first on the scene. Go on Jon.

JON

We didn’t get worried until Tim was supposed to meet us at Ober’s Field and when he didn’t show, we went looking. He was sort of…slumped over. It was like he’d fallen asleep or something. But then I opened the door and there was all the blood. There were flies. Everywhere. It was so hot and I tried to get them away…

Jon stops talking to swipe at his face again. He makes the smears worse. Max reaches out to pat him on the shoulder.

MAX

It’s alright. There was nothing you could do. Tim He wasn’t acting strangely at all this morning? He didn’t seem depressed?

JON

No. Nothing like that. His son just turned three. Tim was going to use the harvest money to put a down payment on a new house. He’d been drinking. There was a whisky bottle on the floor. It was empty, but I think it got knocked over so I don’t know how much. It, it had to have been an accident.

MAX

It looked like he was cleaning the gun. Or something. I don’t think this was intentional. I have all that I need for today Jon. Why don’t I drive you home?

JON
(takes a steadying breath, trying to get himself under control)

You still have to tell Maurine?

Max nods.

JON

I’ll be ok. I’m ok to drive. You still have a long night.

MAX

If you’re sure….

JON

I’m sure. I’ll be ok.

Max and Jon both get into their vehicles and head towards town. Max follows Jon most of the way before turning down the road to Tim and Maurine’s house.

EXT. SMALL SUBURBAN HOME- NIGHT

Max is standing on a covered porch. The porch light is a bare light bulb and there are moths fluttering around it. The curtains are drawn but the room inside is warmly lit. Max stares at the door for a long time before he finally knocks. MAURINE FLEMMING, a young frowsy woman in baggy pajama pants and a sweater answers almost immediately. BOBBY FLEMMING, a big eyed three year old is behind her. Both of them are surprised but pleased to see Max.

BOBBY

Officer Max!

Max smiles weakly at Bobby.

MAX

Hey there Bobby.

MAURINE

Hello Officer Davis, what can we do for you? C’mon inside.

MAX

Thanks Maurine. 

Max steps into a warm living room done in pink floral wall paper. All the accents are frilly.

BOBBY

Did you bring your doggy? Can I see him?

MAX

Sorry Bobby, not this time. I need to talk to your mom for a while ok? Maurine, I need to speak to you privately.

Maurine realizes that this is not a social visit after all and she is becoming alarmed. 

MAURINE

Bobby, you go watch TV. Mommy needs to talk to Officer Max, ok honey?

Bobby grins and toddles off down the hallway. Officer Max is much less interesting without the allure of the dog.


MAURINE

What’s happened? Is Tim alright?

Max gently draws Maurine to the sofa and sits down next to her.

MAX

Maurine, there’s been an accident.

He watches Maurine steal herself for the news. 

MAX

Tim’s dead.

Maurine gasps, but it’s a prepared reaction. She is wringing her hands in the bottom of her sweater and shaking a little.

MAURINE

Wh, what happened?

MAX

We’re not completely sure. He was in his truck and apparently he was cleaning his gun and it went off. It hit him in the leg. Dr. Robert’s said it hit his femoral artery. He bled out in seconds.

Maurine has gone pale and her shuddering is more pronounced now.

MAURINE

He shot himself cleaning his gun? He’s never done that before.

Max starts to speak, and then pauses, unsure if he should continue.

MAX

There was some evidence that he’d been drinking. It was just an accident.

MAURINE

But…that’s so stupid. He knows better than that.

MAX

Maurine, I am so sorry.

MAURINE

Where? Where is he? I need to see him.

Max glances out the window and sees that another squad car has just pulled up outside.

MAX

The body is at the coroner at the county hospital. I can take you there now if you like. Officer Barrow is outside. She can stay with Bobby, or take him to a neighbor’s house.

Maurine straightens up and nods decisively. This sounds like a sensible idea. 

MAURINE

The Mackenzie’s will watch him.

MAX

Ok. She’ll take him there and make sure they understand the situation. I’ll take you to the hospital whenever you’re ready.

MAURINE
(near whisper)

Tim’s really dead?

Max nods.

MAX

Yes Maurine. I’m so sorry.

Maurine’s brief practical façade crumbles and she falls against Max’s chest sobbing. He strokes her back and lets her cry.